


Too Close

by UMdancer98



Category: Batman (1966)
Genre: 1966 cheesiness, Alfred hitches a ride on the Batmobile, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMdancer98/pseuds/UMdancer98
Summary: The Dynamic Duo certainly get caught in a lot of "dire" situations.  This is one of those times.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Too Close

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tag to a scene in "The Bloody Tower" from the 1966 Batman TV show. Robin is tied to the winch in the Tower of Londinium but Batman and Alfred oh-so-easily rescue him with nary a bruise on his body. He wasn't even having difficulty breathing. It could have been such a good 'hurt Robin' moment. Here's a little thing that came to me while I was trying to go to sleep last night.
> 
> In addition to "The Bloody Tower", there are some scenes mentioned from "Fine Finny Fiends" and "Batman's Anniversary". All the credit to the writers and directors of this entire show!

The bridge was slowly rising and Robin felt his ribs being pushed into his spine. There was no way he was going to survive this. Lord Ffogg had laughed when telling Lady Peasoup about using his Recollection Center Reverser on Batman. Did Batman even remember Robin, or was his entire memory wiped clean?

Not that it mattered at this point. Batman didn’t remember today, at the very least, so he would have no idea that Robin was in trouble. Why did it have to be girls, Robin wondered ruefully. Why couldn’t he have been attacked by a gang of boys? Then he could have at least _tried_ to fight back.

But, no. Lord Ffogg and Lady Peasoup just _happened_ to be running a “finishing school” for young ladies. And Robin was too much of a gentleman – a characteristic instilled in him by both Batman and Alfred – to fight a lady.

So now here he was, tied to the winch of a steadily rising bridge. His lungs were being flattened as the rope slowly tightened around his body, causing him to begin wheezing for the air that would soon be forced from his body. Forever.

Black spots began dancing in front of his eyes. Robin decided that suffocating was one of the worst ways to die, especially since it was happening so slowly and hurt _so…much_. The pain of the rope squeezing his body like a boa constrictor was overwhelming. And it didn’t help that his active, intelligent mind was fruitlessly working on finding a way out of this mess instead of allowing him to fall into the less painful depths of unconsciousness.

The bridge was almost all the way up and Robin couldn’t breathe anymore. No matter how much he attempted to struggle out of his bonds or how hard he tried to open his lungs, the taut rope refused to allow his chest to expand.

His vision blurred as the dark spots grew into black holes. Loud drums began pounding in his ears, masking the ‘thud…thud’ of boots rhythmically thumping against cement. Just before he closed his eyes, Robin saw a flash of blue. From underwater he thought he heard his name, but the sound was so far away that it was nearly inaudible.

The waves wrapped his senses in a blanket of darkness and Robin’s head fell limply over his motionless chest.

* * *

“It’s not working, Alfred, I’m going to have to leg it. You keep trying while I race to his aid!”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred replied, pushing the button on the Anti-mechanical Bat-ray again.

Batman sprinted away, heading for the tower that housed the winch room. Robin was fine, he assured himself, even as he watched the bridge continue to rise. He had to admit that, if Alfred couldn’t stop the mechanics and Batman couldn’t get there fast enough, Robin was not going to be fine.

It was a horrific thought, and the picture it brought to his mind was even worse, so Batman shook his head and increased his speed. The bridge was moving slowly; he could make it. He _had_ to make it.

Ten years later, so it seemed to him, Batman finally made it to the stairs. All he had to do now was run up seven flights, stop the mechanical winding of the winch and reverse its direction. There was no time to pause and catch his breath. The Caped Crusader was winded and quickly running out of energy but the thought of finding a dead Boy Wonder gave him a burst of adrenaline.

That chemical surge allowed him to fly up the seventy stairs in less than ten minutes. The winch was at the other end of the long hall. Of course it was, because the universe and Lord Ffogg needed to make it as difficult as possible for Batman to get to his partner in time.

Glancing out the open window to his right, the hero noticed that the bridge was nearing the end of its journey. Batman began sprinting again, yelling Robin’s name just as the boy’s head dropped and his chin hit his chest.

“Robin!” Batman yelled again, hoping his partner wasn’t yet unconscious. “Hang on, chum, I’m coming!”

_Please be breathing._

Batman made it to the winch just as it stopped moving. And, he noticed in dismay, that wasn’t the only thing that was no longer moving. There was no rise and fall of Robin’s chest, no frantic wheezing or gasping coming from the boy’s mouth, and no struggling against the tightness of the rope.

That fact tore the hope from Batman’s chest. Robin would never give up until the last ounce of energy was gone. And no breathing meant no energy. How long had it been, the hero wondered as he reversed the mechanical arm and frantically began pulling on the rope.

The winch was too slow but there was nothing Batman could do about that. He pulled at the rope and pushed on the wheel, to no avail. All he could do was wait. For three agonizingly long minutes, Batman waited. Finally the last line of rope was unwinding and Batman held out his arms, knowing Robin was going to drop off the edge of the winch.

The Boy Wonder fell listlessly into the strong grip of his older partner. Batman lowered him to the ground and searched for a pulse. There was no pulse, no heartbeat, and no breathing.

Batman began CPR, rhythmically pumping Robin’s chest before opening the boy’s airway to send life-saving air into his lungs. The Batmobile’s oxygen Bat-mask and Bat-tank would be doing this much more efficiently but Robin would definitely be dead if Batman tried to take him there now. No, he had to do this the old-fashioned way. As soon as the Boy Wonder began breathing on his own, however, off to the Batmobile they would go.

“Come on, chum,” the Caped Crusader murmured as he pushed on the boy’s chest. “Come on, you’ve been through worse.”

A pause to give his partner air and then Batman began talking again.

“The vacuum room with the reverse billows, remember that? We made it through that, right? We had very little oxygen but we made it anyway. And the cake. Remember how your head was almost buried and you were close to suffocating? You pulled through…”

Another pause to try to push life into Robin lungs.

“…even though you could scarcely breathe and just barely hear what I was telling you to do. You made it those times and you can make it through this, too.”

More air blown in but still no movement from the teenager.

“No, come on Robin, don’t do this. Stop making me worry and just BREATHE!”

Just as Batman lowered his head to give his partner another rush of air, Robin gasped on his own and his eyes flew open. The light-blue circles stared at the Caped Crusader for half a second before disappearing but the Boy Wonder continued to quietly gasp and wheeze.

“There we go, chum. Let’s get to the portable oxygen…”

“Y’ain’ goin’ nowhere, gov’na,” a nasal voice stated from behind Batman as the hero slid his arms under Robin.

Retracting his arms, Batman stood up and whirled around. Three of Lord Ffogg’s men were leaning against the wall to his right. The one who had spoken pushed off the wall and expertly twirled a long cane in his left hand.

“C’mon, then,” a second man challenged as he pushed off the wall and raised his fists.

“I don’t have time for this,” Batman growled.

The third man laughed and launched himself at the Caped Crusader. Batman slammed his fist into the man’s face and the henchman instantly dropped to the floor and stopped moving.

As that was happening, the first man had circled around and was now behind Batman. He swung the cane at the hero’s head but the Caped Crusader heard it coming. Ducking, Batman shifted his stance and buried his strong fist into the ribcage of the arrogant goon. That was followed by an uppercut that knocked the man out cold.

Batman turned back as both the cane and the man fell, which caused him to fail to notice the goon land on the torso of the barely breathing Robin. But, it did allow the hero to land a punishing blow to the jaw of the final man. He finished him off with a chop to the back of the neck then whipped around to Robin.

Quickly yanking the henchman off the limp body of the Boy Wonder, Batman scooped his partner up and began running toward the stairs.

“Keep breathing, chum,” he whispered as he began the downward trek.

It took almost fifteen minutes for Batman to return to the Batmobile. Robin was light, but carrying him down seven flights of stairs and then traversing the rough ground between the winch tower and the vehicle was taxing to the Caped Crusader’s already low energy level.

Alfred already knew what was going on, as he had seen a large silhouette carrying a much smaller shadow when Batman had exited the tower. The faithful butler had the portable oxygen Bat-tank and Bat-mask ready. Batman gently laid Robin on the passenger seat, Alfred efficiently hooked the Boy Wonder up and then they waited.

It felt like they had been waiting for six hours when Robin finally stirred. After five minutes and thirteen seconds, the Boy Wonder slowly opened his eyes and blinked wearily at the men. Both Batman and Alfred let out a sigh of relief and their tense bodies relaxed.

“You…remember me?” Robin whispered.

“As if I could ever forget you,” Batman replied with a soft chuckle.

“Master Batman,” Alfred chided.

“Robin, I forgot even myself,” the Caped Crusader admitted with a frown.

“But…now, you…remember?”

Nodding his head, Batman stated, “You need to rest. Stop talking so that oxygen Bat-mask can do its work.”

Robin nodded back and closed his eyes.

“That was a close one, sir,” Alfred commented quietly.

“Too close, Alfred,” the hero agreed. “We need to get him back to the Londinium Batcave. Hopefully, the rope only left bruises and not broken bones.”

It was Alfred’s turn to nod as he buckled Robin’s safety Bat-belt. Batman walked around and climbed into the driver’s seat. The faithful butler climbed on the outside edge and grabbed Robin’s side of the windshield.

The Batmobile’s engine roared and Alfred held on for dear life as the Caped Crusader took off down the streets of Londinium. While the wind whipped through his white hair, the butler breathed an internal sigh of relief. One thought danced in his mind:

_Disaster averted again._

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I always laugh out loud when I see Alfred climb up next to Robin - on the OUTSIDE EDGE of the Batmobile - for the ride back to the Batcave. And Robin's just chilling in the passenger seat, not even offering to switch places with the much older man. Oh, the joys of Batman in the 1960s. :)


End file.
